


From The Battle Into The Cat Cozy

by FruHallbera



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff without Plot, Getting Together, Kylux Positivity Week 2020, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22589719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FruHallbera/pseuds/FruHallbera
Summary: For the Kylux Positivity Week day 5 prompt Millicent's birthday.A silly little story of how Armitage Hux found his true soulmate(s).
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 10
Kudos: 87
Collections: Kylux Positivity Week 2020





	From The Battle Into The Cat Cozy

**Author's Note:**

> This is quickly written between grueling workdays. I'll look it over once I get my brain back and despair over the typos then.

The rain has finally dwindled down to a drizzle. A grey sheen hangs low over the valley marking the place of the First Order’s latest victory, muffling the sounds of the stormtroopers wrapping up the battle. Hux allows himself a smile and a satisfied nod as he surveys the scene. For once facing the discomfort of a planetside visit has paid off quite handsomely and the Order has gained valuable resources and sent a powerful message across the system.

Hux exits the tent serving as his field command post and decides to take a small detour before heading for his shuttle. Morale is always high after winning a battle and any officer worth their salt would not miss an opportunity to boost it even higher – and perhaps make sure that their soldiers know precisely who has just led them to victory. Besides, his troopers have deserved his personal praise and attention. He walks gingerly down a shallow hill, silently cursing at the mud soiling his pristine boots and undoubtedly also the hem of his greatcoat. He skids his way to a group of troopers huddled in a circle, their once white armours now stained brown and green and red as a testament to their day’s work.

Hux wipes moisture from his face quickly before the troopers catch him, folds his hands behind his back and begins to sink into the mud as soon as he stops walking.

“General Hux, Sir!” The stormtroopers jerk up and around and salute Hux.

“Sergeant,” Hux greets and gives a salute in turn, then rises his voice to address the rest of the unit. “Soldiers of the First Order! You have brought glory to the Order and our noble cause –“

He trails into silence. Before him the troopers stand at attention, heads and bodies covered in plasteel but if there’s something Hux excels at it’s reading the body language of people stomping around dressed in what for all intents and purposes is basically a bathrobe and a bucket. The troopers are nervous. They stand close to one another, clearly hiding something.

“What is it?” Hux demands, stepping closer. His boots make an awful squelching sound when he yanks them free from the soggy ground. The troopers shift their weight and twitch, undoubtedly arguing with each other via their comms. Hux’s annoyance flares. “Show me, now!”

Two of the troopers in the first row move reluctantly apart, revealing their comrade holding a wet lump of mud in their hand. The lump lets out a high-pitched mewl and opens a pair of bright green eyes. It squirms in the trooper’s hold and extends what must be a tiny paw with needle-like claws.

“What- what is it?” Hux asks.

“We believe it’s a young cat, sir. TR-1976 remembers seeing these creatures before, although they were fully grown. TR-5449 found it on the battlefield and took it to safety.”

Hux looks at the indicated trooper, their enormous bulk covered in blood-soaked armour and still hefting a chipped scimitar seized from the enemy. They shuffle, embarrassed, under Hux’s scrutiny and nonchalantly try to shift the non-standard blade behind their back out of the line of sight of their superior officer. Hux ignores it, he’s not opposed to his soldiers using their initiative in battle and besides, the sword is not the most offending item on display. “I see. And what were you planning on doing with the- the young cat?”

The sergeant looks at her squad and then back at Hux. TR-1976 covers the animal with their palm.

“A kitten, sir.”

“Excuse me?”

“A young cat is called a kitten, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Very well. What, exactly, were you planning to do with the _kitten,_ Sergeant? _”_ Hux is barely holding on to his patience. The warm, dry shuttle is only a minute’s walk away and then it’s only a short journey to the Finalizer and his own quarters and then he can get rid of these soaked, dirty clothes and get himself a proper cup of tarine tea. And maybe some whiskey.

“We, uh, we - Um. Sir. We though we could. Um.”

Hux resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You cannot keep it.”

“Sir.”

“Give it to me.”

TR-1976 clutches the tiny creature to their chest but after a moment’s hesitation place the kitten in Hux’s outstretched hand. It weighs almost nothing, a scrawny and soaked little thing. Triangular ears prick and a pink mouth full of sharp-looking teeth opens to let out another squeak. The kitten looks curious and unafraid, sniffing Hux’s gloved hand and his sleeve. Hux blinks at it and on some odd instinct brings it close to his chest to share his body heat. The troopers are fidgeting again, nudging and pointing each other until the sergeant squares her shoulders and takes one for the team.

“Please, sir. May I – We were wondering – what are you going to do to the kitten?”

The stormtroopers are all leaning forwards, anxious. The kitten stirs on Hux’s palm and rises on wobbly hind legs, leaning clumsily against his chest. It sniffs his greatcoat and licks its button nose with its pale pink tongue. Hux deflates. Of all the things he does for morale’s sake. He dithers for a moment and then takes his hat off his head and gingerly places the animal inside it. It examines the hat’s lining and apparently enjoying the residual warmth curls up, yawning. A strange rumbling sound fills the air, surprisingly loud coming from such a small creature. The entire hat vibrates in Hux’s hand.

“Dismissed,” he tells the troopers and shaking his head in disbelief at himself heads off to the waiting shuttle. The vibration and the ruble taper off before he’s reached the transport and the kitten falls asleep. The cap is ruined beyond repair but Hux finds himself not caring. He’ll just requisition a new one and claims this one as lost in battle.

“General!” Hux suppresses a grimace as the booming voice of Kylo kriffing Ren greets him from inside the shuttle. “You certainly took your time. We should have been on our way ages ago.”

Hux ignores the irate Knight and takes his seat, balancing the hat on his knees as he straps himself in. Ren stalks over and plops down on the seat next to Hux’s, spreading mud and grass and stars know what all over the pristine floor. Hux wishes he could berate Ren for it but seeing as he himself has made just as big a mess he makes do with just one pointed glare.

“Am I right in assuming that your mission was as successful as mine, Ren?” The band of warriors Ren claims to lead had taken part in the battle just long enough for having carved a way to one edge of the valley with the aid of Hux’s troopers. From there they had buggered off to complete a task of their own, the details of which Ren had deemed too complicated for a mere strategic genius like Hux to understand.

“It was.” Ren stretches his legs and removes his helmet. His hair is braided underneath it, but some strands have escaped and are now glued to his forehead and cheeks. He wipes them off his face with two large hands and sighs, content. “Master Snoke will be pleased. We acquired the items he sent us to get, and some more.”

“Good.” Hux jumps a little when the hat on his lap wobbles and a mud-encrusted head peeks out. The kitten yawns wide, stands up on all four legs and performs a stretch by arching itself impossibly high, a twig-like tail pointing rigidly upwards. It clambers slowly from the hat, tipping it over in the process. Hux frames his legs with his arms, worried that the kitten might fall to the floor and hurt itself. It sits on its haunches and blinks sleepily, then scratches behind one ear with its hind leg, dried mud flying in the air and clinging to Hux’s jodhpurs. The fur that’s visible beneath the dirt is the same ginger hue as Hux’s own hair and that tweaks something in his chest he doesn’t really recognize. He clears his throat. “I trust you have your report ready in due time?”

“I do not report to you, General. Besides, you would do nothing with the information.”

Hux scoffs, holding his hand beneath the kitten who is climbing Hux’s torso to his shoulder. A cold little nose presses in his ear and he squeals a little and shivers when the cat breathes in it, once again rumbling loudly. It kneads the shoulder pad and makes an awkward turn, tickling Hux’s ear and temple with its tail.

“I should think that any and all information concerning the Order is of importance to me, Ren,” he growls, irritated at Ren’s flippant attitude.

“Pray tell, what would a Force-null soldier do with an ancient Sith artefact? Would you be able to translate the texts? Decipher the calligraphy? Understand the metaphors?” Ren sounds just as angry as Hux. His mouth is pressed into a thin line – a great feat considering how plush and full his lips are – Hux catches himself staring and looks away, scowling.

The kitten stands at the very edge of Hux’s shoulder, neck stretched, and one front paw extended until it has gathered enough courage to make the short jump on Ren’s wide shoulder. It noses around the tattered cowl and tries to catch a lock of Ren’s hair. Hux reaches out to snatch it back but Ren is faster, floating the alarmed kitten to his hand. Hux’s breath catches in his throat and he puts his hand on his blaster, ready to pull it out if needed. Ren examines the kitten, holding it by the scruff of its neck.

“You should know she expects to be fed soon.”

“She? Fed?”

“Yes. She’s not hungry, she’s just eaten – you don’t want to know. But she’ll be wanting to eat soon.”

“How do you - what does she even eat?”

Ren glances at him from the corner of his eye. “Pretty irresponsible of you, getting a pet without studying its needs first.” He plants the kitten on his lap, stroking it between it ears with one large finger. “She’s a carnivore.”

To Hux’s astonishment, Ren pulls a thread from the edge of his cowl and dangles it in front of the kitten. She bats at it and chases it in a small circle. Ren lets her catch it, then pulls it gently away from her and holds it just out of her reach.

And then he laughs.

It’s a genuine, joyful little laugh. The corners of his eyes crinkle and his entire face transforms when the grin tugs at his lips. Hux forgets how to breathe.

Ren scoops the kitten up, holds it to his face and their noses touch. “Her name is Millicent,” he states when he deposits her back to Hux’s waiting hands. “It’s the way the Force wills it.”

“Millicent,” Hux repeats because his brain has just short-circuited, and he has lost the capability to form coherent sentences. The kitten looks up and chirps at him at the sound of her name. Hux looks from Millicent to Ren and back. Perhaps Ren is right. Perhaps this is exactly as the Force wills it.

***

Two rows behind them Captain Phasma looks up from the rather cryptic report of one of the sergeants describing seizing an asset from the battlefield and placing it in the care of General Hux at the two co-commanders cooing at the minuscule animal with their foreheads pressed together. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

Fucking _finally_.


End file.
